


The Case of Scotland Yard

by Black_Rose_117



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century
Genre: Chuby John, John-centric, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:20:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Rose_117/pseuds/Black_Rose_117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So what? He gained a few pounds. Not having a case to chase Sherlock on would do that to an ex-soldier, his body so used to constant movement. But he never would have guessed it would put both himself and Sherlock into danger that could possibly end their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock pushed the door open into Lestrade's office and quickly perched himself in the chair that sat behind the DI's desk. He powered up the computer and typed in the password he knew would unlock Lestrade's computer. Heavy panting came from the direction of the doorway and he spared a glance up towards John, who was leaning against the doorframe, breathing hard.

"Every think of waiting for me?" he growled when he finally caught his breath enough to talk. "Maybe instead of dashing ahead and leaving me chasing after you?"

"You're too slow," Sherlock muttered, too busy working on Lestrade's computer, flipping through file after file. "Join a gym."

"Why would I join a bloody gym?" John asked, walking into the room with his hands on his hips, still trying to pull in air.

"You seem out of shape. I mean, you gained-" Sherlock swept his eyes over John's form before turning back to the computer. "Nine, ten pounds? Seriously, how did you manage that?"

"You're a dick, you know that?" John growled, his face reddening in anger. He knew he gained weight, not having a case for two weeks would do that. "I know I did, you don't need to point it out..."

 

Sherlock glanced at John and was typing furiously. "Why shouldn't I? I'm simply stating a fact. So what? You got bigger. It's not that big of a deal."

"It is to me," John snapped, trying to suck in the fat that hung over his belt. He grimaced as he saw it bounce back out as soon as he let his breath go. He turned his back to Sherlock and started towards the door.

"So that's it then?" Sherlock asked just as John threw the door open and was about to storm out. "You're going to leave angry and go back to the flat? Not talk to me for a while? What?"

"Well, it's better than being insulted by you!" John snapped loudly before slamming the door.

Sherlock didn't even let it cross his mind again after John left as he searched through Lestrade's computer. He found the files he was looking for and stumbled across a few pictures that he had to print and take. Black-mail was always needed.

\---------

John picked up the slice of coffee cake he had cut himself for breakfast and took the plate and a cup of tea out into the living room. He sat heavily in his chair and huffed when he saw his stomach. He glanced around the room to make sure Sherlock wasn't anywhere near by before teasingly poking it. He moaned lightly when it jiggled and set the coffee cake down.

It had been two weeks since Sherlock told him he gained ten pounds and John knew he had gained more, not chasing after Sherlock for a whole month. Sherlock had cases, sure, but he didn't want to be insulted again. Not by that arrogant bastard. So he hadn't followed, hadn't blogged, hadn't chased Sherlock or any of the criminals. It was pointless to deny his weight, obviously having it there in front of him, but still, John tried.

Sherlock had left late last night out for a case and had left John with the departing words of, "Tomorrow, why don't we find a gym?"

He hasn't returned and John couldn't say he wasn't a little bit worried. He ate his cake and drank his coffee in silence, hating himself with each bite. When the clock hit eleven in the morning, John pulled out his cell phone and typed out a quick message to Sherlock.

Where are you? -JW

He waited for a while before his phone finally beeped.

Tid up. Cat typ easly. Scotlend Yerf. -SH

Scotland Yard? John quickly stood and grabbed his coat, noticing it had gotten smaller. He flinched slightly as he hailed a cab and tried to forget his stomach was hanging out over his belt. He had to focus on helping Sherlock.

He quickly moved his way through the Scotland Yard. No one was there, the place deserted and quiet. He didn't know where to start looking for Sherlock. Moving quickly, he went up to the top floor where Lestrade's office perched. When Sherlock wasn't up there, he checked the rest of the offices on that floor before pulling out his phone again and typing out quickly.

Where are you? At Scotland Yard. –JW

He quickly made his way to the ground floor, panting heavily from the stairs, when his phone beeped.

Basemrnt. –SH

Pocketing his phone, John made for the staircase again and descended to the basement. He heard voices off in the distance and bent down behind some crates over in a corner, trying not to look down at his stomach that expanded slightly with each breath he took.

The voices rose slightly before a loud slap of skin on skin was heard and footsteps rushed his way.

"He's useless!" a man with a deep, venomous sounding voice growled as they passed John's hiding place. John covered his mouth with his hand to quiet his breathing.

"We'll get the information out of him, not to worry," the other man said, his voice just as deep and dangerous. "He's strong minded, but his body is just as weak as any street dweller. With a little more torture, he will give us what we want."

"If you say so, sir." And with that, the voices ascended the stairs and John was left in silence.

He got up from his hiding spot and quickly wound his way through the crates and boxes that lined the walls of the basement. He made his way deep into the room before he spotted Sherlock, tied to a chair. Seeing there was no one else in the room, John made his way over to Sherlock and bent down behind him.

"John?" Sherlock's voice came soft and unsure.

"Yes, Sherlock," John breathed, working the knot and trying to control his panting. He got Sherlock's hands undone and started on the one around his torso as Sherlock doubled over to work on the knot around his ankles. "What happened? Why are we here?"

"Moriarty took over Scotland Yard while Lestrade was on a case off in the Americas. It was a simple few steps after that," Sherlock muttered, finally having the ropes fall free and standing, messaging his wrists where the ropes cut into his pale skin.

"Well, let's get out of here while we can," John said, pushing himself up from the ground with some effort. "I saw two men leave up the stairs while I came in, otherwise, the place seems deserted."

"We can't leave just yet," Sherlock said, starting to make his way in the opposite direction of the exit.

"And why not?"

"We have to get the files these guys are after. It's in an office deep in this basement, very well protected. I heard the door get blown open just about an hour ago, so surely they're going to be going through the pages as we waste time speaking," Sherlock said as he started off deeper into the basement, John trying to keep up. "Do you have your gun?"

"No, I don't. I left the flat quickly when I got your text."

"Fine, we'll just have to stay hidden."

Sherlock started to go along the side wall, walking between the crates that were closely pushed up to the wall. John tried to keep up, having issues squeezing in the tight spaces and having to turn sideways more than once. He was panting heavily and avoiding looking down at his heaving belly as Sherlock paused and turned back to talk to John, noticing how far behind him he really was.

"Come on, John," Sherlock whispered out to him, waving him towards him in an impatient gesture.

"I'm sorry, it's a… a tight squeeze," John whispered back, his voice getting softer as he said the last few words, his cheeks heating up.

"Well, suck it up and hurry," Sherlock growled back, waving him on again.

John sighed angrily and grimaced as he felt his stomach touch the crate in front of him. He sucked in as much as he could while panting and tried to move faster. When he finally reached Sherlock, he let the air out and avoided Sherlock's eyes.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" he growled, pushing past Sherlock and slamming his shoulder into Sherlock as hard as he could.

"What? So it's my fault that you let yourself go in a matter of four weeks? Gaining, what? Thirty, forty pounds?"

"Fifty…" John muttered. "And when you guessed the first time… it was about twenty-three… Not ten…"

"It couldn't have been twenty-three."

"Well, it was… I guess I just naturally look… look fat to you," John said, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"John, stop," Sherlock said in his flat, serious tone that he used when he deduced you within seconds. "You were never fat. You gained weight, it's inevitable when you don't do anything when your body is used to constant movement. Your body is used to military training, not sitting around and drinking coffee with your blog."

"What do you call this?" John asked, motioning to his stomach, his voice sounding frustrated and tired.

"A set back. You'll get over it," Sherlock shrugged, walking over to John and clapping him on the shoulder. "For now, let's go finish this."

John nodded and started to follow Sherlock through the tightening spaces, Sherlock going slightly slower so John could keep up. They made it to the back of the basement and hid behind a pile of crates, glancing around the corner to where a single office sat. It had tinted windows that lined the entire wall, making it simple for Sherlock and John to look in as see the three large men going to work through the papers.

"We have to get in there," Sherlock breathed to John.

"But we can't be seen. Those men are armed," John breathed back pointing out the guns that rested on their hips. "And we're not."

Sherlock growled low in his throat. "We'll just have to coax them out."

"How?"

Sherlock pulled back till he was hidden behind the crates and John watched as he went over to the wall. He looked down the small crack that between the wall and the crates.

"There's a door," he said to John as he started to edge closer to the crates. "Come on, John. We can sneak around and get them from behind."

Before John could answer, Sherlock started to move down the wall, his back pressed up against it. John sighed and knew this wasn't going to be fun as he stepped up to the narrow path and pressed his back to the wall, starting the frustrating journey down the wall.

It was tight, and John could see Sherlock working his way down with ease as he had to work at it. He paused to catch his breath, his stomach pressed flat against the crates, as he watched Sherlock open the thick door, of course, out. He watched as Sherlock squeezed through the door and looked back at John.

"There's a door in here that leads around to the back of the office. Come on, John," he whispered loudly to him as John started working his way down towards the door, moving as fast as he could.

He made it to the door and started to work his way in through it. It was tighter than the crates and he was having major issues getting inside as he caught glimpses of Sherlock moving around the room. A shadow on the other wall caught John's eyes and his heart froze.

"Hey!" barked a voice and Sherlock spun to see a man coming in through the door from the office. At once, Sherlock was at John's side, pushing him to start moving out the door.

"Go," Sherlock hissed as he pushed on John. "Go!"

"I-I can't," John moaned as he tried to back track. His stomach was wedged into the door and it was almost impossible for him to go either way. "I can't."

"John!" Sherlock said as hand's grabbed him and started to pull him away from John's body. Two other men came into the room and joined the first, the last of the third obviously the leader as the other two turned to him.

"What should we do with them, sir?" The man holding Sherlock asked, Sherlock struggling to get out of his hold, his eyes meeting John's, emotionless.

"We no longer need them, the papers we need are already out of this building. Tie him up, add a bomb, set it for twenty minutes," the man growled, waving it away.

"And him?" the third man asked nodding towards John with a scowl.

The leader walked over to John and pushed on him. He shook his head and turned to the other two. "Don't bother. He's too fat to get out of there himself. Just set the bomb and let's go."

Sherlock struggled as they tied him up to a pole that was in the room, holding the roof up. They set the bomb in the middle of the room and it started down from twenty. They left them there, laughing, as they exited out of the office and John could catch them heading towards the stairs. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wooden frame of the door.

I've failed…


	2. Chapter 2

The clock on the bomb was just passing fifteen and John sighed heavily. He felt Sherlock's eyes nailing into him as he struggled against the ropes.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," John muttered, watching as his friend struggled. "I really am… This is my fault, I shouldn't have let myself… get so…"

"Large," Sherlock growled. "Fat. Obese."

"Okay, thank you…" John growled, cutting Sherlock off before he could continue. "I know I'm a little… fat… but is that it? Your last words to me are going to be hurting and mean? Even you, Sherlock, I thought would be better than that."

Sherlock huffed and continued to struggle. It was quiet for a while before he spoke up again.

"So that's it then?" he asked, his eyes burning into John's.

"What's it?"

"You're just going to give up? You're more likely to get out then I am, and you're not even trying," Sherlock growled, stopping the struggling. "So you're just going to let this bomb blow up?"

"Sherlock, you know I can't move!" John said, his voice raising. "I've tried, you've tried, what do you want me to do?!"

"Try some more," Sherlock said just as loudly.

John tried against to move farther into the room but he couldn't, and giving up again, he looked at Sherlock who had a dirty smirk on his face. "You find this funny, don't you?!" John barked, his teeth clenching.

The smirk left Sherlock's face at once but it still shown in his eyes. "No, Joh-"

"It's not funny, Sherlock! It's embarrassing and I hate it, especially when you laugh at me!"

"But John, I didn't mean-"

John's phone started ringing, stopping the screaming as both men fell silent. John worked his phone out of his pocket and saw the DI's name flash across his screen.

"Greg, hey," John said, relief flooding through him. He saw the clock on the bomb hit eleven minutes and his heart dropped.

"John, I need you and Sherlock down at the Yard as soon as possible. A robbery just-"

"Greg, I know. Sherlock and I are downstairs. There's a bomb and we need help," John said quickly. He heard Greg mutter something about holding on and the line went dead.

John looked over at Sherlock and said, "Greg is on his way."

"Well, unless the DI has bomb disarming training, we're not going to be able to get out of here alive in time."

"Sherlock, I'm sure if we run fast enough-"

"No, John. We have ten minutes and counting down. You can't move and I doubt Lestrade and myself can get you out with time to get out of here," Sherlock said as footsteps were heard from around the office.

"John? Sherlock?"

"Come in through the office, Lestrade. We're in the back room." And the footsteps were heard running again.

"Well, if he doesn't and you guys can't get me out with five minutes left on the clock, you guys leave me here."

"John, I can't-"

"You can and you will." And the tone in John's voice told Sherlock that was the end of the conversation.

Lestrade burst into the room and took one sweep of the room. "What happened to you?" he asked John as he bent down by the bomb and starting looking it over.

"Shut up," John muttered, casting his eyes down to the floor.

"He decided to go on a coffee cake spree while having four weeks off of cases," Sherlock filled in for him as Lestrade shot him a look.

"Alright than, I've never seen a bomb like this before. All the wires are the same color, I can't disarm this without a chance that it will blow up." Lestrade said nervously, moving over to Sherlock to untie him. "We need to get you guys out of here. Sherlock, help me get John out will you?"

Sherlock looked down at the clock to see they had seven minutes left. "You want to, John?"

"Try, but at five minutes, you leave," John said as Sherlock moved over to him with a nod.

"No, we don't leave you," Lestrade said, frowning at the two men. "We can't."

"But you will, end of discussion," John said as Lestrade came over to try to help as Sherlock started to push.

The clock ticked down as they tried to work John out of the wedge. As it hit five minutes, John pushed both of them away. "Go," he said, shaking his head and giving Lestrade a strong look. "Get out of here."

Lestrade shook his head but started towards the office door. Sherlock looked at John as he trained his eyes onto the clock of the bomb. Sherlock shook his head and bent down next to the bomb, working on examining the wires.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" Lestrade asked, opening the office door and looking at Sherlock.

"Sherlock, go and-"

"No, John. I'm not leaving you here to die. Lestrade, come help me here," Sherlock growled, starting to separate the wires.

Lestrade was at his side in seconds and was holding wires were Sherlock told him to. Sherlock was muttering to himself, working out the bomb's structure and which wire connected where. John put up a protest before Sherlock yelled at him to, "Shut the fuck up and let me think if you want to live!" This shut John up at once, having never heard Sherlock curse before. He watched worriedly as the two men worked on the bomb.

"These wires are colored," Sherlock said slowly as the bomb hit one minute. "Just not as we consider them. They are very slightly different shades of gray. You see this?" he asked Lestrade and the other man nodded.

Fifty-five.

"Uh… Sherlock?" John said slowly, hoping to get Sherlock to move a little faster.

"Lestrade, we need to figure out the red wire. Which is the same as what is here. The colors of a normal timer bomb, what are they?"

"Uh, red, blue, green and yellow," Lestrade answered quickly, thinking hard about it. "That's it."

Forty-five

"Alright, so what we have here is just a grayed out version of a timer bomb. Instead of red, blue, green and yellow, we have four different shades of gray, each representing a color on the regular bomb. So what we need to figure out is which represent the red wire."

"And how do we do that?" Lestrade asked.

Thirty.

"Okay, in a normal bomb, red is the third darkest color on the bomb wires, correct?"

Lestrade thought for a moment before nodding.

Twenty.

"Ok, so what we do is find the third darkest wire out of these four. This one would be yellow," Sherlock muttered, taking the lightest wire and handing it to Lestrade.

Fifteen.

"This one would be green," Sherlock handed the next lightest wire to Lestrade.

Ten.

"So that makes this one… the… red one," Sherlock said, pulling the third one out of the mess and started digging into his pockets for a pocket knife.

The clock began to count down from five and a slight sweat peaked on John's brow. Sherlock pulled out the pocket knife and flipped it open. The clock was quickly losing time and making it to one, where John closed his eyes preparing for the explosion.

After a few seconds, John opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock and Lestrade, both holding the wires and looking at each other, Lestrade chuckling.

"You're brilliant," Lestrade smiled and stood. He clapped Sherlock on the back and laughed lightly. "Brilliant!"

"Sherlock," John said slowly as Sherlock stood and turned to him. "You saved me… Thank you."

"Of course, John," Sherlock said as he came over to where John was.

John smiled lightly at Sherlock than looked down at his stomach. He sighed deeply and looked up at the door instead of down.

"Let's get you out of there, shall we?" Sherlock said with a nod. He met John's eyes before he moved over to Lestrade to talk.

\----------

Five hours later, Lestrade, Sherlock and a few members of the Yard helped to move the large pile of crates and John was able to open the door and walk over to Sherlock. His face was flushed red in embarrassment from all the people around and just the complete idiotic situation that had just happened.

"Thanks again," John muttered as he stopped in front of Sherlock. "And tomorrow, I will join a gym; stop eating all the junk food, everything."

"Good, it'll be good to have the normal John back," Sherlock smirked. They walked out to the front of Scotland Yard to see the five men handcuffed in cop cars. They hailed a cab and went back to 221B.


End file.
